Moving In
by ewells4
Summary: As the title suggests, this is a group of random vignettes loosely based around a Moving In theme.
1. Chapter 1

**In a review for something else I wrote or in a PM, someone gave me the idea for doing a "moving in" story. I apologize for not putting in more of an effort to figure out who you were and credit you properly, but thank you for the idea. This is a three-parter. The chapter splits are mainly because it was too long for one chapter. I sort of loosely separated chapters by "pre-move," "moving in" and "post-move." Oh, and one more thing . . . this isn't a continuation of anything else I've written. I just wanted to put it out there at the beginning to make for an easier read.**

* * *

"Sam, get up. You're working today." Andy prodded him in the side. He was lying face down in the middle of her bed. If she hadn't heard his deep even breaths beside her, she would have been checking for a pulse.

When she climbed on his back and became more persistent, he growled and flipped over. In so doing, Andy rolled off, but he quickly pulled her back on top of him so that they were face to face.

"Sam, no," she squealed when he tried to bring her in for a kiss.

"What do you mean 'no?'" he grumbled.

"You know what I mean," she insisted, shoving him playfully. When he didn't respond, she clarified, "Morning breath."

"You keep saying that," he complained. "I don't recall you having a problem with my morning breath when we first got together. Or when we got back together, for that matter."

"Seriously? No one talks about morning breath in the beginning of a relationship. It's like the elephant in the room." Andy looked at him incredulously as if she had just explained something that should have been very obvious.

Sam rolled her over and settled on top of her, sliding the neck of her t-shirt off of her shoulder. He planted light kisses across the exposed skin, slowly moving his attention to her neck. Slipping his hands beneath her shirt, he ran them up the sides of her body as he scattered feathery kisses up her neck. When she felt the softness of his lips brushing across her ear, she closed her eyes and let out a low moan. All concerns about morning breath long forgotten, she nipped lightly at his bottom lip, sending him the message that she wanted to be kissed. Suddenly, he pulled back and a sly smile appeared on his face.

"Not a chance, McNally. Unless there's a toothbrush on the horizon, those lips aren't coming anywhere near mine. Your rules," he announced breezily, climbing off the bed and making his way into the bathroom.

Andy sighed in frustration but couldn't stop a smile from forming when she heard the sound of the electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom.

As always when she didn't join him, Sam made quick work of his shower. When he stepped out and grabbed a towel, she was standing at the sink watching him in the mirror while she brushed her own teeth.

"Big plans for your day off?" he asked as he toweled off.

"A wibble of vif, a wibble of vaf . . . ." she babbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Sounds great," he commented, sending her an amused smirk as he walked back into the bedroom. He opened the drawer he kept stocked with clothes for when he stayed over and pulled out a clean t-shirt and jeans. Tossing them on the bed, Sam turned his attention back to the drawer, rifling through it carelessly. Coming up empty-handed, he let out a loud groan. "I forgot to bring over clean socks."

"I think I have some of your socks in with my laundry, but they're all dirty. That was one of the things I was planning to do today," Andy said, coming out of the bathroom as he shoved the drawer shut impatiently.

"That's just great. I get to wear dirty socks all day," he mumbled as he pulled his shirt over his head roughly.

"Do you want to borrow some of mine?" she asked in an attempt to placate him.

"Yes, please. I would _love_ to wear a pair of your women's socks," Sam griped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"A sock is a sock, Sam. It's not like I was offering you a pair with pink poodles on them. If you'd rather wear dirty socks to work, be my guest," she said with a shrug of her shoulders as she sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him move around the room getting ready.

"Whatever. Fine. I'll wear a pair of yours," he huffed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "Nothing feminine, though. No polka dots. No flowers. And if you offer me anything with puppies, I'm going barefoot."

"Don't do me any favors," Andy muttered under her breath. Crossing the room, she pulled a pair of black socks from a drawer and tossed them in his direction.

When he saw that the socks were black, Sam calmed down considerably. He sat at the end of the bed and exhaled loudly as he pulled them on. "Kind of small, but I guess they're better than nothing," he noted, flexing his foot dramatically. "This is getting kind of crazy, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, confusion etched on her face. Not knowing where he was going with the remark, she sat down beside him tentatively. A tiny part of her feared that he might be trying to pull back again. She quickly shoved away that thought, however, reminding herself that they were in a really solid place. Until his reaction to the sock dilemma, he had given her no indication that he was unhappy with the current setup.

"_This_," he answered with emphasis, gesturing to the room at large as if that cleared it up completely.

"My bedroom?" Andy questioned him with wide eyes.

"No. I mean, yes. Sort of," he stammered, frustrating both of them in the process. Running one hand through his hair, he seemed annoyed by his inability to say what he wanted to say to her. Finally, using his hands for emphasis, he stated firmly, "I just think maybe it's time to talk about putting all of our stuff under one roof."

"You want to move in together?" Andy attempted to clarify. A sudden rush of laughter escaped as she experienced a mixture of shock and relief. When he stared at her blankly, she explained, "I thought you were going to tell me you needed space."

This time, he turned wide eyes on her. "Why would you think that?"

"Ranting about not having any clean socks . . . telling me _this _is kind of crazy . . . ." she recited as she tried to explain her thought process to him. "Okay, when I repeat it back the evidence seems kind of flimsy," she acknowledged as a blush spread from her neck to her cheeks. She narrowed her eyes at him. "So you really want to live together?"

"Does that freak you out?" he asked slowly, a dash of apprehensiveness coloring his tone.

"No," she assured him immediately. "I'm surprised it doesn't freak you out, though."

"Andy, it doesn't freak me out," he said as he took her hand and rested it on his thigh, absently playing with her fingers as their legs bumped against each other. "I've been thinking about it since we got back together."

"You have? Sam, it's been six months. You've been thinking about moving in together for six months and you didn't say anything?" She turned her whole body toward him and pulled her legs up underneath her on the bed.

"I didn't want to rush you," he explained simply. "So you're okay with the idea?"

"I'm more than okay with it. Yes, let's do it." She sprang forward and tackled him on the bed, dropping kisses all over his face.

"I do have to be at work soon, you know," he reminded her weakly.

"Wait," she pulled back and adopted a serious tone. "Your place or mine?"

"How would you feel about buying something together?" he suggested. When she only stared at him with a stunned expression, he pushed, "McNally, I don't think I've ever seen you speechless. What do you think?"

"I think," she said, as an unstoppable grin spread across her face, "That I can't wait to have all of our socks under one roof."

* * *

"We got it!" Andy shrieked, ending the call and tossing her phone onto her kitchen island.

"I sort of pieced that together from your end of the conversation," Sam laughed as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tight hug.

"Sam, we bought a house!" she reiterated, bouncing up and down so much that he had to relinquish his hold on her. A satisfied expression settled on Sam's face as he watched her moving excitedly around the kitchen.

Seemingly unimpressed by his lack of overt enthusiasm, Andy stopped and questioned him. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, I'm happy." He followed up the assurance with a short burst of laughter when she didn't look convinced. "This is what happy looks like on me."

She stared him down skeptically and then perked up as a new thought seemed to occur to her. "Okay, fine. You may be playing it cool on the outside, but I know you're doing a happy dance in your head," she informed him with a huge grin on her face. "I'm actually picturing it as we speak."

"Please don't," he insisted, doing a poor job of holding back a smile.

Andy gave him a quick kiss before deciding that they should drive over to the new house to see it immediately.

"Now?" He looked from her face to the two untouched plates of food on the dinner table and back again.

"Yes, now! Come on. Let's go," she giggled, running into her bedroom to grab a light sweater before taking up position beside the door to wait for him. She was literally vibrating with happiness.

"Don't you think it'll still be there after dinner?" Sam protested weakly, already palming his truck keys. "Let's go," he said, shaking his head and laughing at her. As soon as he pulled the door closed behind them she was yanking him down the hallway by the hand.

When they drove up in front of the new house Andy announced brightly, "There it is."

"Our house," Sam confirmed, resting his hand on her leg as they looked out the window at it. In spite of his objections, he was secretly glad she dragged them there to see it. He and Andy would be building their lives together in that house, and the feeling of contentment that came from that thought was almost enough to make him want to do a happy dance. _Almost_.

Andy jolted Sam from his reverie when she unbuckled her seat belt and swung open the door in one smooth movement. Sliding out of the truck, she planted her feet on the sidewalk and looked back to let him know that she expected him to join her.

"So I guess we're getting out . . ." he observed, unbuckling his own seat belt and opening the door. He walked around the front of the truck and stood beside her.

"Are you sure you're happy?" she asked, looking over at him.

"No. Not a bit." He responded dryly, inching her forward and enveloping her in a bear hug from behind. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

"Sam, I'm serious!" she chastised him, resting her arms on top of his.

"Of course I'm happy," he mumbled, bumping his nose against her neck lightly.

"I was just checking. You're a hard read sometimes."

"You read me just fine, McNally."

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, squeezing his arms as she stared up at their future. "I wish we could go inside."

"We probably could, but it would be difficult to explain to the current residents," Sam pointed out as he raised his head for another glance at the house. "Come on, let's go have dinner. We can do another drive-by tomorrow on the way to work."

"Okay, just two more minutes . . . ."

After five more minutes, Sam spoke up, "See that tree in the side yard?" He momentarily took one of his arms from her waist to point across the yard before wrapping it around her again.

"Yeah?" she responded, turning her head to look at the tree.

"That's where the swing will go."

Andy snapped her head back in Sam's direction. "What are we going to do with a swing?" she asked, looking amused.

"You know what . . . ." he responded, raising his eyebrows at her. Shifting his gaze back to the house, he continued, "And we're going to need a fence in the backyard for the dog."

"We're getting a dog, too?"

"Of course," he answered as if it were a done deal.

"What else?" she questioned him somewhat eagerly.

"Well . . . I think we should get one of those welcome mats for the front door, but it needs to say something like 'welcome to our home but don't get too comfortable.'"

"'Welcome to our home but don't get too comfortable,'" she repeated as the laughter bubbled out of her. "You want to put that on a welcome mat?"

"Yeah. Why not? It sets the tone as soon as people walk through the door. Otherwise, they'll be dropping by at all hours or overstaying their welcome."

"Sam, I'm pretty sure you're kidding, but there's a tiny part of me that's not convinced," she said, turning around in his arms. "So why don't we just agree that I'll be in charge of any and all door mats for the new house."

"Suit yourself," he agreed reluctantly, opening the door and nudging her up into the truck. "But don't blame me when Oliver takes up permanent residence on our couch."


	2. Chapter 2

**This is Part 2 of 3. Thank you guys so much for all of the feedback. It really makes the writing process a lot of fun. **

* * *

Andy slid into the moving truck and buckled her seat belt, immediately turning her attention to Sam. As he pulled out of the lot at the moving supply store he knew she was looking at him. It was always fun to watch McNally when she was flustered and slightly off her game, so he pretended not to notice her stares, knowing it would make her crazy.

"What?" he finally broke down and asked with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, you know what," she said in an accusatory tone.

"No. I don't believe I do." He really didn't. She could be talking about any number of things and if Sam had learned anything from experience, it was to keep quiet and wait her out. Otherwise, he might do something like accidentally admit that he didn't care for her meatloaf when she was really asking whether he wanted to meet up after work at the Penny. He certainly didn't want a repeat of that experience.

When he only gave her a blank stare, she persisted, "Sam, are you seriously going to pretend you didn't notice?"

"McNally, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The girl, Sam. The one at the rental counter?"

"What girl?" he asked innocently, biting back a smile as he suddenly realized what had gotten her so worked up.

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't notice her?"

"Of course I noticed her. I noticed that she rented us a moving truck."

"It was more than that and you know it!" Morphing her voice into a sugary-sweet imitation of the girl back at the moving store, she cooed, "Can I get you more packing blankets, _Sam_? Oh, I see you only reserved a small truck, but I'm going to upgrade you to a larger one at _no charge_. The truck is due back by six, but if you're going to be later, _that's okay_." Blowing out an exaggerated breath, she returned her voice to its natural tone. "Ugh. She was totally coming on to you."

Laughing, he pointed out, "She was doing her job. She works at a place that rents moving trucks. Anyway, you were there, too. Maybe she gave us the free upgrade because she was flirting with _you_."

"So you admit she was flirting . . ." she said, folding her arms across her chest and looking over at him with narrowed eyes.

"I'm admitting nothing," he chuckled. In truth, he had noticed the girl flirting with him but thought very little of it at the time. What he did appreciate, however, was the effect it was having on Andy. She was a magnet for male attention, and even though she was normally oblivious to the appreciative stares and less-than-subtle attempts to hit on her, he certainly was not. He had witnessed it often enough to want to enjoy watching Andy's reaction when it happened in reverse.

"I just think she laid it on a little thick is all," Andy said sullenly.

"And if she had been more subtle it would be okay?"

She shot him a glance that had Sam thinking it might be wise to refrain from speaking for the near future.

"I mean, she had to know we were together. I was right there with you, and we were renting a moving truck. It wouldn't take much to deduce that we were moving somewhere _together_. What was she thinking?" Sam knew Andy was talking herself down. He could actually see her relaxing as she reasoned with herself. "I'm not saying it was your fault, you know."

"Well that's good to know," he responded, laughing indulgently at her.

The truck fell silent as she dropped her hands to her lap and stared out the window for the rest of the ride to her condo. When they pulled up in front of the building she suddenly unbuckled her seat belt and slid across the seat until she bumped up against him. Grabbing his shirt, she pulled him toward her and dragged him into an enthusiastic kiss that robbed Sam of his ability to formulate rational thought. She made such thorough work of it that he found himself fighting off the urge to haul her upstairs and postpone the move for a few hours while they finished what she started. Seemingly pleased with her efforts, Andy pulled back and gave him a satisfied grin.

As she let go of him and slid across the truck to get out, he muttered, "Remind me to thank the girl at the rental counter for that."

* * *

Hefting a large box toward the door, Sam stopped abruptly and set it down with a thud, eyeing Andy suspiciously as she wrapped three cat figurines in newspaper.

"Absolutely not, McNally. Those are _not_ going."

"Why not?" she asked, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"They're too girly."

"Sam," she began, giving him one of her most persuasive smiles. "You know I love you, right?"

"I do," he admitted, grinning at her smugly. "But they're still not going to the new house." Then, as quickly as the grin appeared he turned his attention back to the box and picked it up.

"Fine. They're actually kind of creepy anyway. But if the cats aren't going, that means no neon beer sign."

"Wait," he said, backtracking and putting down the box again. "That sign is vintage. I'm not getting rid of it."

"I didn't say you had to get rid of it," she assured him. "We'll just find a nice home for it in the back of a closet."

"Spare bedroom wall. Non-negotiable."

"How about basement wall?" Andy suggested as she absently swiped a hand across her face, smudging dust on her cheek in the process. "There's some serious man cave potential down there."

"I like where this is heading," he informed her, walking over and gently wiping off the dirt on her cheek with his sleeve.

"Or, you know, we could put it over the work bench in the garage," she offered, doing her best to produce several suitable alternatives to the guest bedroom.

"No need to keep talking. You had me at 'man cave,'" he admitted, sliding his hand down her cheek and smiling at her.

"No canoodling, you two," Oliver warned them from the door. He was the first of their moving crew to show up at Andy's condo. Having moved all of Sam's stuff the prior weekend, the goal was to be completely out of Andy's place and into the new house by nightfall. And that meant they were going to need help.

"Thanks for helping out, Brother," Sam greeted him, moving away from Andy to pick up the box again.

"No problem. Just don't forget-I was promised free beer," he called after Sam, who was already toting his box out the door.

"Oliver, there are sandwiches beside the stove if you're interested," Andy said with a grin.

"Sandwiches . . . you always were my favorite rookie, McNally." Needing no further prompting, he edged into the kitchen to check out the offerings.

"Help yourself," she laughed as she fanned herself with her hands. "I'm just gonna change into some shorts," she told him as she walked toward her bedroom. When she came back out, Dov, Chloe and Chris were standing near the door surveying the mostly-empty room.

"Hey, does this mean we get our housewarming gift back?" Dov asked, receiving a light punch in the arm from Chloe.

"Ouch, Babe. That hurt," he whined, rubbing his arm for effect.

"Don't worry. I'll make it up to you later," she said suggestively as she grabbed Dov's chin and pulled him down to her for a sultry kiss that had Andy and Chris averting their eyes.

"Where do we start?" Chris asked abruptly, directing his attention to Andy.

"Well, those boxes need to go down to the moving truck." Andy pointed to a stack of boxes beside the door. She carried the box she'd been packing to the pile and stood up straight to stretch out her back. "Thanks for coming over to help, guys."

"No problem," Chris said. "It was either this or sit around the apartment all day watching those two batting their eyelashes at each other."

"Hey, that's not all we do," Dov defended them. "And I told you, if you're tired of being the odd man out, Chloe can set you up with her friend Irene. I'm telling you, Chris, she's smokin'."

"No thanks, man. I can get my own dates," Chris announced. "That last girl she set me up with wasn't exactly my type."

"Fiona," Dov recalled. "Yeah, she was kind of scary."

"You didn't tell me you thought she was scary," Chloe chimed in. "Fiona isn't scary. She's edgy," Chloe corrected him, growling as she said "edgy." "Everyone needs a little 'edgy' in their lives."

Chris shook his head. "Not me. When people look at me, that's not usually the first word that comes to mind."

"Okay. So no 'edgy.' Don't worry. We'll find you someone," Chloe said, walking over and patting his shoulder.

"Guys, I'm good," Chris assured them. "Let's just work on getting these boxes outside."

"Diaz has the right idea," Sam said, coming back after dumping his box down at the moving truck. "Less talking, more moving."

"Epstein, Diaz, let's go," Oliver instructed them, coming out of the kitchen with a mouthful of sandwich. He picked up a medium-sized box and made his way out the door with Dov and Chris trailing behind him.

"What can I do?" Chloe offered, clapping her hands together in anticipation. "Let's make this move happen."

"Ummm . . . you can help me finish packing up what's left on those shelves," Andy said, indicating the last of the knick-knacks and books that were scattered around on her bookshelves.

"Got it, Boss." Chloe reached for an empty box and carried it across the room to the shelves.

"How's it going down at the truck?" Andy asked Sam. Instead of carrying out more boxes, he was watching her predatorily from across the room.

"Not too bad," he muttered, walking over and resting a hand on her hip. Attempting to avoid Chloe's earshot, he leaned down and whispered, "Those shorts you're wearing are kind of a distraction, McNally."

"You can't be serious. Sam, I'm covered in dust," she hissed.

"No, he's right, Andy," Chloe confirmed. "Those are some pretty sexy shorts. And that shirt is hot."

Rolling his eyes, Sam motioned toward the bedroom with his head.

"We're supposed to be packing," she whispered loudly, not able to keep a smile from forming on her lips.

"We are," he whispered back. "Don't we need to have that discussion about what's left to be packed up in there?"

"We don't need to be in the room to have the discussion," she pointed out.

"It's a private discussion. Come on. Price will keep the rest of them distracted for us."

Shaking her head, Andy couldn't hold back a laugh when she saw his hopeful expression. "I know you're not serious. Weren't you just telling everyone to get to work?"

"That was before I noticed the shorts."

"Go," she said with authority, giving him a haphazard kiss and pointing toward the door.

"If you'd just stayed in those sweatpants we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Somehow, your lack of focus is my fault," she noted with a grin, picking up an empty box and going over to join Chloe at the bookshelves.

"These cat figurines are super cute," Chloe cooed.

"They're all yours, Price. Our gift to you," Sam said as he walked out the door with another load.

"Seriously? That's so nice," Chloe enthused. Looking to see that Sam was gone, she leaned toward Andy. "So, things seem to be going well for you guys. I know everyone thinks Dov and I are way over-the-top, but I'd say you two are running a close second to us."

"No, we're not," Andy insisted but then wondered if perhaps they were. She was so happy with the way things were going between them that she could barely keep a lid on her feelings. And she didn't even want to try most of the time.

"You totally are," Chloe disagreed. "And I know I said you had a glow when you were with Nick, but it's nothing like what you've got going on these days. You light up whenever anyone even mentions Swarek—like right now, for example—and it's pretty clear to anyone with a pulse that he's crazy about you."

Andy smiled absently when Chloe referenced the conversation about Nick that they'd been having just before the shootings started. Memories of that day were bittersweet for Andy. As terrifying as the experience had been, it had also been the catalyst for her second chance with Sam. And when she contrasted her feelings for Nick at the time of that conversation with her feelings for Sam-past and present-there was no contest. Almost as if she were talking to herself, Andy said, "He makes me happier than I can ever remember being. All the pieces feel like they've finally dropped into place for us."

"Yep, there's the glow." Chloe smiled. "I totally get it. He makes you happy. You make him happy. That's what it's all about."

* * *

When Nick showed up, Dov, Chris and Oliver were passing boxes up to Sam, who was standing in the back of the truck. Acknowledging Nick's presence, Sam nodded stiffly in his direction. Sam had gotten used to the inevitability that Collins would occasionally be around. He wasn't thrilled about it and certainly didn't seek out the guy's company, but he had adopted a sort of polite indifference toward him that seemed to work out pretty well when they were forced into company with each other.

"Collins . . . nice of you to join us," Oliver greeted Nick, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked back toward Andy's condo.

"How's the move going?" Nick asked to no one in particular.

"Not too bad," Dov offered up. "The girls are inside packing. We're basically the hired muscle."

Before he could stop himself Nick held out a cautionary hand to Chris, who was toting a large framed print toward the truck. "Be careful with that. It's one of her favorites." When Nick looked up, Sam was staring down at him from the truck. "I mean, I think it is. I know she always liked it, anyway. I just didn't think she'd want it damaged," he stammered.

"Stop talking," Dov suggested as he followed Oliver back upstairs for another load.

"Collins, it's fine," Sam assured him through gritted teeth. Sam quickly shook it off, telling himself that this day was about his future with Andy. Collins might remember that she liked a certain piece of artwork, but that print would be hanging on his wall—the one he planned to share with her for the rest of their lives.

When Nick looked like he had more to say, Chris slid the print up into the back of the truck and walked away quickly, mumbling, "I wouldn't, man," to Nick as he rushed past him.

Sam was wrapping the print in a moving blanket when Nick approached and cleared his throat. "I'm really happy for you and Andy. I just stopped by to see if you needed any extra hands, but if it's weird having me here, I can go."

Closing his eyes and exhaling quickly, Sam dug deep looking for patience. "Collins, I said it's fine," he repeated, hoping that would put an end to the matter.

"Okay. I just wanted to be sure. I know it's a strange situation . . . ."

"The only strange thing is that we're actually discussing this," Sam stated dryly, looking around for something—_anything_—to get him away from Collins. He reminded himself that the guy really did seem to want the best for Andy. How could he fault him for that? Collins was even dating someone new, according to the latest rumors circulating at the station. Normally, Sam didn't have his ear to the grapevine, but when it had to do with Andy's ex moving on, he found himself tuning in with more than his usual indifference.

Sighing heavily, Sam motioned toward some furniture on the sidewalk. "Collins, can you at least make yourself useful and hand me that lamp?" Sam pointed to a brass floor lamp with a peacock on the shade that was standing in the middle of a random assortment of Andy's possessions.

"Great Aunt Cecilia's lamp," Nick commented as he wrapped his hand around the base and picked it up.

"The very one . . . ."

"I don't know about you, but I've always hated this lamp," Nick observed, giving it an appraising stare.

"I can't say I'd be too broken up if it accidentally fell over and broke during transit," Sam agreed.

Laughing, Nick handed the lamp up to Sam, who wedged it between some boxes to hold it in place. Looking over his shoulder toward Nick, Sam said, "Good ol' Aunt Cecilia . . . also responsible for the world's most disgusting chocolate chip cookie recipe."

"The one with the raisins?"

"That's the one," Sam confirmed as he walked toward the edge of the truck and jumped down to the ground.

"Who puts raisins in chocolate chip cookies?" Nick questioned, shaking his head.

"A woman who wanted to punish the world with her bad baking and horrible taste in home furnishings," Sam laughed. Suddenly, he asked, "Hey Collins, what's your take on a nice, very tasteful neon beer sign?"

"Old-school neon?" Nick asked, sounding impressed. Sam nodded, and Nick immediately responded, "Definitely gotta go up on the wall at the new place."

* * *

When Sam drove up in front of the new house after returning the moving truck, the sight of Andy huddled on the steps waiting for him was a welcome one. Seeing her out front, he parked his truck on the curb instead of going into the garage. A gratified expression settled on his face as he climbed out and walked up the sidewalk toward her. When they were at their lowest point he never could have imagined coming home to find Andy waiting for him on the front steps of their house. It had been a rough road for them, but the hard times made him appreciate what they were currently building even more than if things had always been simple.

"Welcome home," she greeted him with a warm smile, extending her hand in his direction. When he took it, she pulled him down beside her on the steps.

"You should be inside. It's getting cold out here," he said as she linked her arm through his and scooted up against him. Resting his hand on her thigh, he felt goose bumps on her skin as she shivered in the crisp evening air of late summer.

"I was waiting for you," she admitted sheepishly, bumping her shoulder against his.

"Thanks for waiting." Sam wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. Andy burrowed her head into the crook of his neck, sighing as she snuggled against him. He looked down and kissed her head lightly. For several minutes, they sat in comfortable silence, appreciating the significance of the moment.

"We should probably go in," Andy finally suggested, breaking the silence. "I made the bed while you were gone."

"That was ambitious," Sam teased her.

Andy looked up at him with a confused expression. "Why was that ambitious?"

"It was ambitious of you to think we'd make it all the way to the bedroom, McNally. Especially because you're still wearing those shorts." A low laugh rumbled in his chest as he scooped her up and carried her inside the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Confession . . . I wasn't sure how the Nick stuff was going to be received in the last chapter. When I hit the Post button I considered crawling underneath a chair to wait for the negative reviews to be hurled at me through cyberspace. Everyone was really supportive, though. And now I'm super relieved, so thank you. :)  
**

* * *

"Sam, if you touch those snacks one more time, so help me," Andy threatened him as she swatted away his hand. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she maneuvered a butter knife through a pan of brownies, cutting them into bite-sized squares.

"Empty threats, McNally," he baited her, leaning across the kitchen island to swipe several pieces of popcorn from a bowl. He shot a cocky grin her way as he popped each piece into his mouth individually.

"You know what, eat your snacks," she informed him haughtily, motioning to one half of the island. "When the guys get here and all you have to offer them are a few lonely little peanuts in a bowl, don't come whining to me. _We_," she said, motioning to the other half of the island, "will not be sharing our snacks with the men."

For their first official gathering in the new house, they were having a joint Girls' Night/Poker Night. The women had the upstairs and the men were planning to take Sam's new Man Cave out for a test spin. Having only been in the house for a month, Andy had expressed misgivings about hosting Poker Night before they had time to make the basement "cozier." In return, Sam had insisted that men didn't care about "cozy"; they only needed beer, snacks, a table and maybe a couch—in that order. When some new furniture purchases freed up their old stuff for the basement, it became more than adequate in Sam's opinion, so Andy decided to let it go.

"Andy, you have more food here than we could ever consume in one night," he pointed out to her patiently.

"I just want to have a good variety. Where did we put the spatula?" she asked, turning around to rummage in a drawer beside the stove.

When her back was turned, Sam casually nudged a tray of raw vegetables and dip across to the Girls' Night side of the island. Turning back around, Andy eyed the food suspiciously and pointed the spatula at him as if she were interrogating a suspect. "Did you just move those veggies?"

"Maybe," came the noncommittal response.

"What's wrong with carrots and celery?" she asked as she plated the brownies.

"Not a thing. I can appreciate a good healthy snack. Just not on Poker Night."

"That's fine. You guys can just wallow in your beer and junk food while we keep it healthy upstairs."

"No complaints here," Sam said with a laugh, crunching on a carrot from the veggie tray. The doorbell rang and he grabbed another one before moving down the hallway to answer it.

"Nice doormat," Traci offered up as she and Steve stepped across the threshold.

"Wasn't my first choice," he revealed as he shut the door and motioned for them to follow him to the kitchen.

"I know all about it, Swarek. Probably not the best story to lead with when you have your first official house guests over," she advised, nudging Steve down the hallway in front of her.

"What's wrong with 'Welcome to Our Home?'" Steve asked as he set down a six-pack of beer on the kitchen counter.

"Absolutely nothing," Andy said, throwing a smile and a look of warning Sam's way. "There was some concern that it might be a little bit _too_ welcoming."

"You could always add a caveat. Something like, 'Welcome to Our Home. Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out.' It's not too late. Just pencil it in across the bottom with a Sharpie. Andy, if you've got one handy, I can go take care of that before anyone else gets here." Steve held out his hand toward Andy expectantly.

"Sounds like you and I are on the same page, Peck," Sam said, nodding his head in approval. Picking up Steve's six-pack, he put it in the refrigerator and pulled out two cold ones from his own stash. He took out a bottle opener from a drawer and popped the tops, handing one to Steve.

"Andy, he's kidding," Traci clarified, laughing at Steve as she bumped her hips against his playfully and took a sip of his beer.

"I know," Andy admitted, eyeing Steve, "But just in case things get out of hand later tonight, I'm hiding all the art supplies in the house."

Gradually, the kitchen filled up with their friends. Everyone from Oliver and Celery to Frank and Noelle showed up. Sam had even asked Nick to come. Andy suspected that the invitation had more to do with Sam's desire to round out the poker table than any real interest he actually had in hanging out with Nick. Still, she was happy to see the two of them peacefully co-existing with very little awkwardness.

When the room was full, the guys grabbed beer and snacks and headed down to the basement. As they hit the bottom of the stairs, she heard Dov yell, "Sweet setup!" That was followed up by a few impressed whistles and a "Nice job, Sammy" from Oliver. So in spite of her own misgivings about the Man Cave not being ready for entertaining, she realized Sam was right. It seemed to be more than adequate for Poker Night.

Before the guys were even out of the room Traci was pouring glasses of wine for the women. Andy picked up some of the food and with Celery's help, arranged it on the coffee table in the living room.

"Is Gail coming?" Traci asked, expertly holding two full wine glasses in each hand as she carried them into the room.

"She said she might stop by," Andy mumbled. In truth, Andy knew her relationship with Gail still needed some work. Lately, Gail seemed to be hating her less and less, though, so that was progress. "Do you guys want to watch a movie?"

"Chick flick!" Chloe said enthusiastically as she entered the room carrying her own wine glass. When no one else objected and everyone seemed more intent on finding a place to relax on one of the chairs or the couch, she started pawing through the stack of movies Andy had set out in advance. Holding up one victoriously, she spun around and popped it into the DVD player before settling onto the couch between Noelle and Andy.

By the time Traci topped off their wine glasses once or twice, the room was a cacophonous mix of loud hoots and wild peals of laughter. The chick flick had long since been relegated to background noise.

"Okay, okay," Noelle said, sipping her wine as she scanned the other women in the room. "Of all the guys downstairs, who would you most want with you if you were stranded on a tropical island?"

"Not Oliver," Celery offered up immediately. "I love him dearly, but unless you plan to sit around the island sipping coconuts and making small talk, he's not your guy."

"She's right," Andy agreed. "You'd have a blast with him, but if you actually wanted to get off the island at some point, he wouldn't be your best bet."

"Dov would be good if you wanted to know a lot of useless trivia about the island," Traci suggested, chuckling as she sipped her wine.

"Hey, don't count out Dov," Chloe said, coming to his defense. "He's surprisingly handy. I'd definitely want Dov on the island with me."

"Oh please. You two would be holed up in some teepee making out. Forget about trying to get rescued. We'd never see either of you again." Traci snickered to herself.

"Here's to that," Chloe giggled, raising her wine glass.

"Steve would be great if you needed to charm the natives," Traci reflected, swirling the wine around in her glass. "Maybe negotiate a peace treaty with some of the other inhabitants. I don't know how helpful he'd be when it comes to his survival skills, though. I mean, he is a Peck."

"Andy, what about Sam?" Celery asked.

"Are you kidding? Sam knows his way around a toolbox, but unless the island was in the middle of a city park, you might as well give up all hope of getting out of there alive," Andy told them with a laugh.

"Same goes for Frank," Noelle confirmed. "His skills are better suited to an urban environment."

"I think I'd have to say Chris," Traci posited.

"Me, too. I'd go with Diaz," Noelle chimed in. "He's a cutie, but most importantly, he'd be willing to sacrifice himself to save anyone who was with him."

"Oh yeah. He's definitely easy on the eyes," Chloe piped up excitedly. "Who wouldn't want to spend time on a tropical island with that? Of course, Dov would still be my first choice, but if he weren't available, I'd want Chris."

"Wow," Andy laughed. "You're taking this pretty seriously," she remarked, raising an eyebrow at Chloe.

"I'm surprised no one mentioned Collins," Noelle reminded them. "The guy's military. He's trained to deal with this type of situation."

A collective groan arose from Andy, Traci and Chloe. When Celery laughed at them in surprise, Traci explained, "I'm sure he's great with a machete, but the person stuck with him would have to listen to, 'One time in Afghanistan . . .' at least fifty times a day. That alone would be enough to kill you."

Laughing, Andy walked back to the kitchen to get the brownies. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Sam standing against the sink with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "So you don't want me around if you're stranded on an island?" he asked, looking offended.

Andy gave him a guilty smile as she walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck. Instead of putting his arms around her, he dropped them against his sides. From the glare she was getting, she knew she was going to have to put in a little effort to bring him around. "First of all, you shouldn't be listening in on Girls' Night." She kissed him affectionately, gradually feeling his lips softening against hers.

Pulling back, he insisted, "I wasn't. I just came up for more beer and happened to hear you talking."

Sighing, she smiled at him indulgently as she ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "That was a completely hypothetical situation. It would never happen."

"You think I wouldn't be helpful in that scenario? I'm excellent in high-pressure situations, McNally," he scoffed.

"Are we really having this conversation?" Andy asked as her eyes danced in amusement. She could see the hint of a smile emerging on Sam's face, and she knew he was coming around. She kissed him once more on the lips and said, "I love you and unless we're talking about a completely hypothetical scenario in which I'm trying to survive on a tropical island, I want you with me all the time. You may not be a fan of the outdoors, but you have _many_ other talents."

"Well, that's very true," he conceded. "Why don't we send them all home and I'll show you a few of my many talents?" Sam rested his hands on her hips, turning her slowly so that her back was against the counter. He brushed her hair behind her shoulder and leaned down to place several barely-there kisses on her neck. Moving his hands to the nape of her neck, he shifted his attention up to her mouth, scattering soft, velvety kisses across her lips. "Let's send them home now," he muttered against her lips. "I'll get rid of the men and you get rid of the women."

"What?" she asked in a haze. "Sam, no!" Andy laughed at him in disbelief. "Later," she whispered loudly.

Smirking at her, he backed away and opened the refrigerator to grab more beer. As he headed back downstairs, he called back, "If you need anything up here, let us know. We'll send Diaz. Apparently he's good in a crisis."

* * *

"Were you nervous? About proposing?" Andy asked Sam. They were on the couch in their living room one afternoon a few months after moving into the new house. Andy was wedged between Sam and the back of the couch with her left hand resting on his chest, smiling at the ring on her finger.

"Actually, I was," Sam confessed. "I had a whole speech planned and that went right out the window as soon as you looked at me."

"A speech?" she questioned. A sly grin spread across her face. "Not that 'Marry me, Andy,' wasn't absolutely perfect, but this speech sounds _very_ interesting."

"Oh, believe me, it was," he assured her, running his hands through her hair lazily.

"Okay, now you've done it. I'm gonna need to hear it."

"You're not serious . . ." Sam objected. When she nodded enthusiastically, he licked his lips and laughed uncomfortably as he thought about what he would have said to her. "All right. But be prepared. When you hear it you'll want to marry me immediately. It's some pretty great stuff."

Kicking her feet in excitement, she settled her head on his chest and waited.

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Sam was thankful he wasn't looking at her directly. When he looked down at her, all he could see was the top of her head, and that was fine. He knew he wouldn't be able to get through what he wanted to say if she were looking at him. It certainly hadn't been possible earlier that day when his heart was hammering away in his chest.

"It was more like a collection of thoughts than an actual speech," he clarified. Clearing his throat, Sam began slowly, "I probably would have started by telling you I always thought futures were for other people. My life was like one long undercover op. The goal was always to lie low . . . stay off the grid . . . avoid letting someone else get too close . . . try not to invest too much into anyone. I was never fully engaged in life . . . just going through the motions and keeping my head down. Didn't realize it at the time," he said with a shrug, "but that's the way it was." As the thoughts rolled out of his mouth, Sam almost seemed to be talking to himself. Looking down at Andy's head resting on his chest, he chuckled quietly before glancing back up at the ceiling. "Then one day, this over-eager rookie stormed into my life, said enough is enough, _literally_ broke down a door and pulled me kicking and screaming into the real world. If that's not life telling you it's time to pull yourself together, I don't know what is."

Andy was drawing small figure-eights on his chest with her fingertip and as she listened, a wistful smile crossed her lips.

Sifting his fingers through her hair, he continued haltingly, addressing her directly. "Andy, I don't even want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't kicked your way into that room and forced me to see what my life could be. You've made everything better, and I can't imagine what a future without you would look like. I know it would be empty. And dark." Sam paused, letting the silence cling to them. He knew she was starting to cry because he could feel her tears through his t-shirt. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone," he admitted. "Of course, somewhere in there, I would have thrown in a 'marry me.'"

Raising her head to look at him, Andy laid her hands on his chest and propped up her chin on them. "You're right. That was some pretty great stuff."

"I warned you," he smiled at her, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

"Yeah, you did," she sighed. "That was really good for a guy who doesn't like to talk about his feelings."

"Hey, I can deliver when the situation requires it. But don't get too excited. Better to keep the bar low when it comes to that kind of stuff," he advised her with a laugh.

"I wouldn't dream of raising your bar," she teased him. "I still can't believe I didn't suspect anything. How long had you been planning to propose?"

Sam looked at her hesitantly, not wanting to admit how long he'd actually had the ring. He'd been waiting to ask her for a while. Finally, when they were comfortable in the new house, he knew it was the right time. It was past time, as far as he was concerned. "Let's just say this wasn't a recent purchase," he told her with a crooked grin.

A huge smile spread across Andy's face. "I love you," she said suddenly. "And I'm really glad I kicked in that door. Of course, it _killed_ my foot. It was sore for days afterwards."

"Really?" He looked at her skeptically. "There's a right and a wrong way to kick in a door, McNally. If you do it right, your foot shouldn't be sore. Clearly, I need to give you a few lessons."

Laughing, Andy pulled herself up to his face and kissed him. As she slid back down to his chest she added, "Of course, I wasn't so glad at the time. When you were stomping around and barking at me about how I'd wasted eight months of your life, I kept wishing Traci had been the one to knock on that door."

"Come on. You thought I was awesome," he prodded her.

"I definitely thought you were _something_, but I can't say it was awesome."

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't my finest moment," he conceded. "Turned out all right in the end, though." Pulling Andy into him tightly, he rolled himself on top of her. His face came to rest inches above hers.

Placing her hands on his cheeks, Andy grinned up at him. "Yeah, I guess it did." She slid her arms around his neck, and pulled him down toward her. Their lips touched lightly, searching for their rhythm before sliding into a long, silky smooth kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

**I was really married to the idea of this story being only three chapters, but I changed my mind and decided to add a fourth and final chapter. This was an idea I originally had for the third chapter. That chapter was running long, though, so I cut it. Thanks for reading. (:  
**

* * *

Sam was startled awake by a series of tiny pops against the bedroom window. Feeling slightly disoriented, he looked at the clock on the night table. Bright red numbers screamed that it was 11:25 p.m. The popping stopped, and he was on the verge of chalking it up to squirrels in the tree outside when he heard the sound again. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and walked slowly to the window, expecting to see the beady eyes of some nocturnal creature staring back at him. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of Andy standing in their front yard, poised to throw a handful of pebbles his way. Hoping to avoid a third assault, Sam flipped the lock quickly and opened the window.

"McNally, what are you doing?" he called down, choking back a laugh when he saw the determined expression on her face.

"Come down," she hissed, motioning for him to join her outside.

"Something wrong with your key?" Still on the edge of sleep, he scratched his head as he stared down at her in confusion.

"Sam, please," she pleaded. "Oliver's in there, and I don't want him to know I'm here."

"Okay," he sighed, sliding the window back into place. He briefly wondered why she hadn't just called him on the phone to ask him to come outside but then answered his own question as he walked downstairs and noticed it on the coffee table in the living room. Picking up the phone, he saw four missed calls from Andy.

Oliver was snoring peacefully on the couch, seemingly undisturbed by the phone calls. Sam shook his head as he slipped out onto the front porch to talk to Andy.

"I didn't know you called. My phone was downstairs," he explained when he came face to face with her.

"S'okay," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, breathing in deeply. "Is Oliver asleep?" she mumbled.

"Yeah. He's out cold on the couch." Sam wrapped his arms around Andy, holding her against him tightly.

"I thought he was staying in the guest room," was the muffled sound that came from Sam's shoulder.

"He fell asleep watching TV, and it was easier to just throw a blanket on him and call it good. The guy insists on staying over to keep me company," Sam mused, "and then he falls asleep on the couch after one beer."

When a full minute passed and Andy gave no indication of relinquishing her hold on him, Sam pulled back and studied her face. "Hey . . . what's wrong? Why aren't you at the hotel?"

Sighing, Andy looked down at the ground and then back up at him. "It's my Mom," she admitted slowly.

Sam remained quiet, but he could already feel the anger percolating inside of him as he waited for her to elaborate. It was a familiar feeling he had every time Claire's name came up, which thankfully, wasn't that often. For Andy's sake, he was glad she had her mother back in her life, but more often than not, that meant Andy was left feeling disappointed when Claire didn't come through for her.

"It's nothing, really," Andy continued even though it was obvious to Sam that it wasn't "nothing." It was significant enough to drag her out of her hotel room the night before their wedding, so it had to be something. When he'd left her there with Nash earlier in the evening, excitement had been rolling off of her in waves. And now she was standing on their front porch looking solemn and subdued—the exact opposite of what he wanted her to be feeling the night before they got married.

"This is Claire we're talking about. It can't be nothing," he reasoned. He linked one of his hands in hers as he walked her over to the porch steps. Settling on the middle step, he guided her down beside him with their joined hands and leaned back against the stair above him. And then he waited, knowing Andy would have something to say eventually. He was just thankful that it was a warm July night and not the middle of winter.

"You're right. It's not nothing," she admitted finally, turning toward him. "With Claire, it's never nothing." Andy smiled wryly as if she were resigning herself to the fact that her relationship with her mother would always be complicated. "She called earlier. It was just a quick conversation; she said she wanted to see if I was ready for tomorrow. We were having a normal talk, and it was nice," she recounted wistfully. "Then all of a sudden she sort of started implying that she was disappointed about not being given a bigger role in the wedding planning. I got the impression that she was really upset about it," Andy told him, letting her shoulders sag as the words came out of her mouth.

"She said that to you?" Sam asked, his tone thick with disbelief.

"Not exactly those words, but it was _strongly_ implied," Andy answered, looking down at the ground. "What was I supposed to do? She's been back in my life for what, three years? And even now, she's in and out. I call her and then I don't hear back from her for weeks, if at all. I don't see her for months at a time, but suddenly, I'm getting married and she wants to be involved in what's going on in my life?" When Andy looked at Sam briefly, her eyes betrayed all of the confusion and hurt she was feeling. "The funny thing is that I would've asked her to be more involved if I thought she'd be at all interested."

Although Sam was making a valiant effort to keep the mood light for Andy's sake, he was seething on the inside. Claire was unbelievable. After bailing on Andy years before, she finally had a chance to rebuild the relationship, and she was wasting her opportunity. Sam's main concern-to be honest, his only concern-was that she was hurting Andy in the process. When it came to the day-to-day things, Claire just didn't get it. He watched her disappoint Andy every time she cancelled a lunch date or said she was too busy to meet for a Saturday afternoon at the mall. When it came to the big life events, Claire wanted to step forward and play the loving, involved mother, but what she didn't seem to grasp was that Andy needed her mother around for the regular, everyday life experiences, too.

Even though all of that was on the tip of his tongue, Sam didn't say it. He knew it would only make Andy feel worse, and that's not what she needed from him right then. Instead, he said, "Sometimes weddings bring out the worst in people."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, looking over at him with a surprised expression. "What do you know about weddings? This is your first one, right?" she teased him.

"First and last," he confirmed. Then, with a shrug, he mumbled, "I may have read it in a magazine."

"You mean a _wedding_ magazine?" She asked with a laugh.

"Maybe," he said hesitantly. Then, with a sigh, he added, "They're all over the house. There was one on the kitchen table, and I flipped through it during breakfast one morning last week. It had an article in it about this type of thing."

"And you read it?" she asked, a skeptical expression overtaking her face.

"Yes, I read it, McNally," he responded gruffly, impatient to move past the image of him poring over a wedding magazine at the breakfast table. "And it's a good thing I did because now we know how to deal with this situation."

"Okay," she said as her mouth curved up at the corners. "What did it say?"

"Let's see . . ." he recalled, rubbing his chin and wishing he'd read the article more closely. "The gist of it was that as much as your friends and family care about you, when it comes to weddings, sometimes even the nicest people in your life turn into train wrecks. Some of them are overly-excited and just want to be a part of things; some of them are jealous and want to make it all about themselves. There was this one bride whose sister got so wasted at the reception that she stood up on a table and told everyone she was in love with the groom."

Andy was staring at him with wide eyes, struggling against the urge to laugh. "No way. That didn't happen."

"Today's Bride, June issue . . . read it for yourself if you don't believe me," he said smugly.

"Okay, so what did this article say to do?"

"Just suck it up," he suggested, receiving a playful punch on the arm and a deep laugh from Andy.

"_Suck it up_? You read that in a wedding magazine?"

"I'm paraphrasing, but yeah, that's basically what it said," he laughed. "Look, I think it's important that we just focus on ourselves. Tomorrow is about us. And if someone wants to drop passive aggressive hints that they don't like something about our day, we can't let it pull us down. Just keep your eyes on the prize," he informed her.

"I'm assuming you're the prize?" she asked with a grin.

"Yep."

Andy giggled, knocking her leg against his. "I really love you," she told him as she squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I suspected as much." Sam aimed a small smile Andy's way as he let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She automatically leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're always there when I need you, and you know exactly what I need even when I don't," she continued. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here with me. I mean, Sam, I just feel so lucky to get to go through the rest of my life with you." He could see the gradual return of her enthusiasm from earlier. As long as she stayed off the phone with Claire for the next twenty-four hours, Sam figured she'd be okay.

"Me, too," he said as he kissed the top of her head. "Well, I'm relieved. I thought you came here to tell me you were having second thoughts."

"No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," he agreed. Sam grinned at her as she lifted her head off of his shoulder and looked over at him. "We both know you're not letting a guy as amazing as me slip through your fingers."

Andy's laughter was cut short when her phone rang. She fished it out of her pocket, wincing as she looked at the caller i.d.

"I was hoping you wouldn't know I was gone," she said into the phone as soon as she answered.

From beside Andy, Sam could hear Traci's voice pouring out of the receiver at a fast clip. Like a child being scolded, Andy held the phone to her ear, waiting for a chance to speak.

At some point Traci must have stopped to breathe because Andy explained, "My Mom just got me so worked up, and I needed to see Sam for a few minutes." Traci started up again, which prompted Andy to interrupt. "I'm not spending the night, Trace. Trust me."

Andy pulled the phone away from her ear and handed it to Sam. "She wants to talk to you," she explained with an apologetic look and a shrug.

"Nash," Sam said evenly as he put the phone to his ear.

"Swarek. It's a_lmost midnight _on the night before your wedding," she informed him in a tone that made it clear that she thought this should mean something to Sam.

"Yeah, yeah. I know what time it is. Thanks for the intel."

"Just put the Mrs. in the car and send her back to the hotel," Traci said curtly.

"Take it easy, Nash. She came over because she wanted to talk. So we're talking . . . ." He looked at Andy and rolled his eyes, prompting a muffled laugh from her.

"Just tell Andy it's almost midnight and she needs to get out of there, okay?"

"Why do you keep saying that? What happens at midnight? Are we worried McNally's gonna turn into a pumpkin?" he joked.

"You need to brush up on your fairy tales," Traci laughed, beginning to lighten up. "Cinderella doesn't turn into a pumpkin. The _carriage_ does."

"Well, I'm not big on fairy tales, so why don't you just cut the crap and tell me what you're talking about?"

The sound of a loud sigh came through the earpiece and then, as if she were talking to a three-year-old, Traci explained, "After midnight, it'll be your wedding day, and it's bad luck for the two of you to see each other."

"Are you serious?" he asked dryly.

"Just do it," Traci said with authority. Sam knew she was using her "mom" tone on him. He actually felt sorry for Leo every time he heard it. It wasn't easy to ignore Nash when she went into full-on mom mode. "And be careful. She's slippery."

"Slippery?" Sam questioned with a raised eyebrow as he stood up to usher Andy back to the car.

"Yes. Tricky, sneaky, whatever . . . . Just make sure she gets in the car and heads for the hotel. I don't want her doubling back and sneaking into the house to spend the night with you."

"Why would she do that?"

"I don't know," Traci answered in frustration. "I specifically told her _not_ to go over there to see you. And what does she do? She waits until I fall asleep and sneaks out of the hotel room."

"Sounds like her," Sam agreed, letting out a low laugh.

"And I'm pretty sure she took my car," Traci muttered. Sam smiled as he looked at Nash's car sitting out in the street in front of the house.

"Relax. I'm sending her back right now. And we still have ten minutes until midnight."

"Thank you," Traci breathed.

"No offense, but if we only have ten minutes left, I'm not spending them on the phone with you. Have a good night, Nash. It's been a pleasure."

"I mean it, Swarek. Ten minutes," she admonished him just before the line went dead. Sam handed the phone back to Andy as they started down the walkway toward Traci's car. "So you gave Nash the slip?"

"I didn't think she'd _ever_ fall asleep," Andy groaned.

"She's taking the whole Maid of Honor thing pretty seriously," Sam observed.

"She's been really great, though, hasn't she? I feel bad that we gave her such a hard time just now . . . ."

"Nah," Sam said, dismissing her concerns. "I'm sure she'll find plenty of ways to torture you in the fall when you're in her wedding."

When they reached the car, Sam opened the door and boxed her in with one hand on the door and one on the roof. As he edged into her personal space, an intense expression settled on his face. He was feeling nostalgic, knowing that when Andy got into the car it would be the last time he'd see her before the wedding. As they stood on the threshold of their future, he couldn't wait to start the next chapter with her. At the same time, he found himself looking back at everything that had brought them to that point, from riding around in a squad car with her during the early days of their partnership to moving into their own home together and everything in between. With their new beginning came a sort of ending to the "them" they had always been. As excited as he was about their future, that feeling of nostalgia was enough for him to want to keep her there just a few minutes more.

Sam leaned toward Andy and kissed her lightly several times before guiding them into a more lingering kiss. Although he knew it had to happen, he didn't want to let her go. He realized she must have been feeling the same way because her arms slid up his back and pulled him against her firmly, giving no signs of leaving him either.

Finally, Sam broke away and looked at his watch reluctantly, noting that it was 11:58 p.m. "Get in before this thing turns into a pumpkin," he warned her, tapping the roof of the car. "I don't want to have to explain something like that to Nash."

"All right, all right. I'm going," she insisted, looking much more like the Andy he dropped off at the hotel than the one who showed up on the front lawn thirty minutes before. "Love you," she tossed over her shoulder. She got into the car and looked up at him with a huge grin on her face.

"Love you, too," he said as he shut her door and stepped back onto the curb.

A short time later, Sam had settled himself back in bed when his phone beeped, indicating an incoming text. Picking up the phone, he read: _Can't sleep. Too excited._

_Try_, was his response. He smiled to himself as he drifted off, knowing she'd be asleep in minutes.


End file.
